Winter has always been difficult for me. To begin with, I have never liked the cold; I would rather be in shorts than bundled up. Growing up in Georgia, winter did not mean playing in the snow, it meant the weather was cold and everything outside was dead. There was little reason to go outside, unless you were going somewhere, nothing fun or exciting was happening. Cooped up inside, day after day, there comes a point where you no longer want to read, watch TV, do pushups and sit-ups, or sleep. All you want to do is go outside and not be cold. I searched more deeply into any kind of baseball as the slow crawl through winter carried on. Welcoming any distraction, I dissected every ounce of baseball news. Rumors about a signing, even a trade for low-level prospects, became increasingly interesting. Winter has been, and will continue to be, miserable.

I moved away from Georgia, first to the New York City area, and now to Cincinnati. The snow in New York was fun. I made up for those lost years of sledding and playing in the snow. Any time I can play in the snow, or at the beach, I turn into a 5 year old. Life is too short not to act like a kid whenever you can. Once the snow is no longer falling and the ice slick forms, playtime is over. Doesn’t matter whether you’re a kid or a grown-up playing pretend. Then I want the snow to melt away quickly. Not lingering for months turning into a disgusting sludge. I love to play in the snow, but there is a point where I want it gone so I can play in the grass again.

PNC Park
Baseball is beautiful. (The Winning Run)

As this winter has been much less snowy than the past few, I once again find myself ready for winter to fade away. The ground is not covered with snow this year and only serves to remind me of the winters when I was a kid. Some days you look outside and the sky says it is a beautiful day for baseball, but the thermometer smacks you back to reality.

Late January and early February are the most difficult time for me. I become the most restless this time of year. I have been inside far more than I want, and yet the weather keeps me inside against my wishes. I want to hear the crack of the bat and the sound of gloves popping. I want baseball news that is more than transactions. I want to go outside and hit a baseball myself without my hands screaming at me from the bitter cold. In short, I am ready for spring and for baseball.



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